


Focus (on your Breathing not your dick)

by BettiSteam



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Chastity Device, Cock Cages, Dom Steve Rogers, Dom/sub, Dom/sub Play, Established BDSM Relationship, Established Relationship, Impact Play, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Overstimulation, Safewords, Spanking, Sub Bucky Barnes, Top Steve Rogers, color system
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-02
Updated: 2015-07-02
Packaged: 2018-04-07 06:24:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4252764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BettiSteam/pseuds/BettiSteam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky did something he shouldn't have in the communal showers. Steve and Bucky get some personal time in to dole out punishment and orgasms.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Focus (on your Breathing not your dick)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mwestbelle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mwestbelle/gifts).



> There's a smidge Romanoff/Barton but they really aren't in this fic, just an atmospheric mention at the beginning. I didn't tag Sam or Fury as characters because they've got like a sentence. There is one face slap in case that's a squick. No CBT though there is a chastity device. Boy this was fun to write.

James has stood at attention for nearly three hours.

He tries to count the panels in the wall.

He tries to keep looking ahead.

He tries very hard not to think about the thing between his legs, it's a punishment after all. Every time he tries to redirect his thoughts go right back to the metal and plastic.

He tries very hard not to think about how it got put there. He can't stop it though once his brain goes there, too late. Now he's thinking about Steve. This leads to thinking about Steve's hands. This leads to thinking about Steve's hands manipulating the plastic and metal.

He tries very hard not to think about Steve's hands doing the putting, the careful placing of it. There’s the sound of the plastic and metal coming together. Then all is lost, he's thinking about Steve's hands, Steve's large wonderful, warm hands. He snaps back to himself. He thinks about his breathing.

Natasha raises an eyebrow but he hasn't done anything report-able yet. He hopes not anyway. He doesn't quite know what she tells Steve, but he knows that if he breaks line here. Steve will know and this torment will only get worse. This is one of those stacking punishments.

During his time standing here, he's seen Barton get taken aside not once but twice for, "losing focus." He's not sure what that means exactly but he gets goosebumps when Natasha says those words.

James is not sure what Natasha does when she takes Barton aside. Everything happens out of his periphery. That's part of the punishment. He can't see anything but wall from this spot.

When Barton returns he's got goosebumps all over his arms and hardened resolve not to fail again.

It's not that James has never lost focus during one of these but he's got a much more pressing reason than usual not to. The cage on his cock has become even more restrictive as time goes on. This is good for the resolve but not necessarily for the focus. The more his cock strains in it the more his brain wanders to places like Steve's hands and the more his cock strains.

There is now an undeniable itch under his skin that he knows only Steve can scratch. He doesn't want to give Steve any reason at all not to scratch that itch. He breathes out two three, in two three, out two three. Just a little longer, he says to himself.

Steve is in a meeting. All James can see of it, is a distant door far to his left just barely within his periphery. Eyes forward, he reminds himself. His brain jumps to Steve saying just that. His brain jumps to Steve's hand squeezing his shoulder just before he stepped away.

Orders, Barnes, come on.

He tries to focus on his breathing.

James shifts his weight from one foot to the other and goes back to focusing on his breathing. Breathing is safe. He counts breaths and he counts the teeny tiny divots in the wallpaper. He counts breaths from Barton.

Now there's a bead of sweat that runs down from his waistband southward. He tries to will it unsuccessfully not to fall any further. It does. He can feel it right were skin touches the edge of the plastic cage. That's fine, he tells himself. Then it falls or maybe he just imagines it falls. The drop of sweat seems huge now, right where skin meets plastic.

He swallows and tries to count dust motes. He tries to find something new on the wall to count. He tries to count Barton's breaths, anything to keep his mind off his own body.

Natasha is watching him, she is always watching. Barton goes back to standing on his head in the joyful optimism that at this moment makes James feel very weary.

There's moment of doubt like ice water soaking his core. A fear that Steve won't come back. James pushes past that thought, only to get hit with another. Steve not coming down the hall. Steve goes somewhere else after the meeting. How many hours can he last?

James shifts his weight again and tries very hard to not think about the seam on his pants that is runs along on his inner leg. It's pressing closer than usual because he's still got the est of the flight suit over it. There are now a half dozen beads of sweat all trying to get his attention.

Steve will be back soon, he reminds himself. He counts his own breaths.

When he closes his eyes for too long of a stretch, he hears Natasha's gum smack. His eyesopen quick. She's watching Barton just now. He refrains from a sigh of relief.

How much she tells Steve, he has no idea. Now his mind, his treacherous mind, wanders to an image of Steve hands roaming over him. Then it jumps to imaging the first pinch of sting as the pain starts. That's it James thinks, I'm going to die right here with my junk in a cage and that Russian smirking at me. He forces himself to stand straighter and glare. He is going to count those divots, dammit. He classifies them according to perceived depth and counts a1, b4, c5, a3, b6, c6...

The door at the end of the hall opens. He sees Thor smiling broadly and Sam recovering from something funny.

Well, that'll be good won't it, James thinks. A good meeting, everyone in a good mood, everything should be good.

Steve should be in a good mood, right?

His heart races when Steve isn't with the others spilling out of the room. If it's been bad a meeting, Steve might not want to do anything.

Something in James collapses under new weight. A disappointed Steve is worse than a mad Steve. It went south whatever it was, he won't want to talk about it, that firmly in James' mind is worse than not getting to play tonight. Steve not talking, Steve distant.

This is a fear he can't shake so easily. He shifts his weight again and tries to count breaths.

Steve has his head down a little and is walking in pace with Fury. James can't see all of his expression but it's serious. He's listening very intently to whatever Fury is saying.

Please, not another mission, Bucky thinks. Not another hard mission. Not so close after the last. He doesn't know who he's asking this, but he just wants things to be ok for a while.

Fury and Steve shake hands. Bucky can see his face now. Steve's face is serious way too serious. His skin prickles along his shoulder blades and that itch under his skin gets worse. He swallows hard as Steve's attention turns back his way.

James wants to fall to his knees under that glare right now. He doesn't dare. Not out here, no he has orders. His kness feel weak but he holds.

As Steve gets closer, the glare turns from simply hard to hungry.

Bucky wants to crack a joke, he wants to break the tension. He wants very much for that Steve to hurt him.

He never gets the chance to voice any of that, a big wide hand clamps onto the back of his neck and pulls him forward into a kiss. Whatever was in his brain, a moment before, is long gone by the time he comes up for air.

Steve's smiling at him now, that's alright, that's what he wanted anyway.

That big hand stays on Bucky's neck the whole walk back to quarters.

Bucky's glad of it, his legs have threatened to buckle several times now. The feel of it, the weight, the presence is a kind of external strength. He can almost do anything with Steve so close.

Once the door is closed both of them release a sigh. Steve is smiling at James like he's the best thing he's seen all day.

"Ah, come on." Bucky says trying to brush it off but he's got this blush adding to the itch under his skin. Bucky sits on the corner of the bed starts taking off his boots. He moves to start on his shirt but Steve's hands get there first.

"I'm gonna take care of you." Steve says pushing into his space and batting away Bucky's hands.

There's that itch again becoming a buzz into his brain. Bucky would do anything to live in that buzz.

The layers of clothes come away while all he can think about is remembering to breathe. Both his jacket and shirt is gone. The flight suit pants are tossed aside. James thinks about which officer he'll have to check them in with tomorrow

Pop.

It's a slight smack mostly noise to his cheek. It knocks him out of space and back into his body. He's looking into Steve's big pupils.

"There you are." Steve says warm and fond.

The hand that hurt a moment ago is is cupping his cheek and Steve's thumb is tracing over his jaw.

Without thinking, Bucky parts his lips.

The pad of Steve's thumb presses on his lower lip.

Bucky closes his eyes again, this is met with a nip on his shoulder. He laughs and playfully shoves at Steve.

Steve shoves harder and Bucky goes backward on the bed. Steve starts kissing him and fondling him through his his regular pants. They're unzipped at this point but Steve seems damned determined only to tease him.

"Aw, Stevie." Bucky whines when he finds it just about makes everything worse for as good as it feels.

The cage is still sitting firmly around his cock. The fabric moves around it, and even with that there's no way to get the friction right where he wants. He knows even the smallest amount if he could get it in the right place. He struggles and whines again.

Steve just laughs and goes back to what he's doing which at the moment involves licking and kissing a trail down Bucky's torso while his hand squeezes at the inside of Bucky's thigh.

Bucky is so turned on, he groans in frustration and lifts his hips. This is good for about two seconds and then the cock cage shifts and it so very not forgiving of the parts of him that want to be touched.

"You little punk," he managers to squeeze out while trying to get his breathing back under control. He is not going to make it, he's gonna die right here in Steve's hungry eyes with blue balls.

"Don't act so tough." Steve says crawling up Bucky's torso. "You can be so good, when you're not acting tough."

Bucky nods. He can be good. He can be very good. "Tell me what to do." He cringes it came out so much desperate than he meant.

"Take these off." Steve says pulling at Bucky's pants.

Bucky jumps up so fast, he's surprised his head doesn't spin.

Steve lazily pulls off his own shirt. "Get down here."

Bucky's on his knees between Steve's legs before he can think.

"Take my boots off."

Bucky starts with the clips and then moves to the laces below that. They each come off and then Steve's socks. He hits the hamper without even looking.

Steve rolls his eyes.

James sets the boots aside away from the bed, he looks at up Steve. He doesn't know what's next.

Steve looks at him like he's seeing James for the first time , like this is all new and fascinating and he could never get enough.

Steve is leaning down to kiss him again. "You're so good." Steve says. Steve pulls back more to look at his properly. He shakes his head like he sees something he can't quite believe.

James has never felt so wanted in his life.

Steve squeezes the back of Bucky's neck and pulls him in close for another long kiss. When he finally breaks the kiss, Bucky is right there pushing into it again. Steve falls back into it.

Feeling smug Bucky leans into the big hand on the back of neck.

"Take your hair down." Steve says hot and close to Bucky's cheek.

Bucky reaches up to pull out the hair ties. He shakes his head a little. It's not as long as he'd like for this. He looks up at Steve all dreamy eyed and willing. He's glad to note the way Steve shifts to adjust his erection. His hair may not be long enough yet but the effect is still promising.

Steve's got a new smirk on his face now.

It makes Bucky feels both trapped and very wanted. Under those eyes, Bucky wants to be trapped.

"Now tell me," Steve says tone somewhat serious with one hand pressed into the other."How long you've been in that?" Steve's foot brushes the inside of Bucky's thigh and just barely touches the edge of the cage on his cock.

Bucky swallows hard. "t-Two Days."

"Two days, what?"

"Two Days, Sir." Bucky corrects. He makes damsel eyes at Steve again.

Steve raises an eyebrow, "And why did I put it on you?"

"B-Because I touched without permission, sir."

"Is that all?"

Bucky both hates and loves this part.

"No, sir." He hates how it makes him squirm, hates how it makes his cheeks inflame.

"What else did you do?" Steve's voice is warm.

He loves how Steve's voice washes over him. How the space between them becomes the only air in the room. He can't look anywhere else but at Steve right now. It both hurts and inflames him.

"I let Barton see me do it."

Steve's got this look, like he was gonna laugh and then decided Bucky was fresh meat for the block instead. It's a pretty serious smirk. It makes Bucky feels small, and cornered. Bucky thinks he can almost feel what those shark like teeth will feel like on his skin.

He adds, "Sir," on to the end real quick, so he doesn't get smacked.

"I didn't know you let Clint watch."

There's a smart part, of Bucky, that is yelling at all decibels to apologize and back the hell off. He stopped listening to that voice a while ago. It is too late he is running into this field of barbed wire and bears at full tilt.

"Well, when I start something, I gotta finish. Besides I got a standing ovation out of it." He looks away quick, then remembers to add, "Sir." He looks back at Steve through his lashes.

Steve looks away for a second and coughs so he won't laugh. When he turns back, that smirk has grown. The smirk is swallowed by the sharp toothed grin that takes over of a shark with new friend in the tank.

That voice Bucky hasn't been listening to, he is most definitely listening to now.

His face must fall a little, because Steve reaches out holds his chin.

Bucky relaxes against the touch. It's still Steve, he thinks.

That voice in his head always sensible responds, "but he's a punk, and you've done it now."

"You remember your colors." Steve's voice is not cold but it's firm. This is something he never strays on.

"Yes, sir." Bucky says this time without the sarcasm and looking Steve right in the face. They must always be on the same page for this. Steve would tolerate nothing less.

"Stay here." Steve says. Steve points.

Bucky looks at the wall just behind the bed, he stares at it.

Steve is standing, just outside his vision. Bucky imagines because he can't hear anything that Steve is making plans, that Steve is looking him over and making decisions about items in the locked footlocker next to the bathroom door. The quiet stretches. The quiet makes James nervous. Instead of the sound of Steve taking his pants off, or the sound he expected the clasps on the footlocker being thrown back, he hears just the slide of a drawer.

It's the night stand drawer. He's certain of it now.

 Bucky tries to remember what's in there. There should be a bottle of lube, a book he's reading, and- He remembers now:  the stingy paddle. He took it from Steve the last time they fooled around. It's too stingy. He put it in the drawer so it would be out of reach that night. It never made it back to the footlocker.

 Steve has definitely not forgotten it.

James swallows. The voice reminds him Steve's a punk and he's done for.

The paddle, it's small, black leather over something a smidge tougher, past the handle the curve of the paddle is maybe four inches long. It's round and it stings.

James closes his eyes and tries to keep his composure. That multi-decibel voice between his ears is sounding all alarms, you're in for it now, it says. James nods in agreement, yep he’s in for it now.

James is very uncomfortable now. He's thinking about what Steve did before, and what Steve might do. He shuts his eyes tight and squirms. He tries to focus and squirms again.

"Now you're gonna be a very good boy, for me."

Bucky nods before the words are even out of Steve's mouth. He's going to be good. He’s going to focus and be good.

 Steve grabs his hair and pulls him upward for a long kiss, the kind where Bucky's breathe catches. He breaks away only to be pulled back in.

"You're going to use your colors." Steve says again.

 Bucky just nods. It wasn’t a question it was a statement. Bucky feels a little floaty already.

Steve settles down on the edge of the bed. He’s got the paddle in one hand. Bucky’s watching it instead of Steve’s other hand which grabs Bucky’s hair again.

Bucky feels himself pulled up and over. A warm hand moves from his hair to his neck and then his shoulders. He’s across Steve’s lap now. It still surprises him how big it is these days. The warm hand squeezes his shoulders and then swoops low in circles over his back. He relaxes.

One.

No, that’s not right. There isn’t any pain, or noise. James resettles himself and braces.

Steve’s hand returns to rubbing his back.

James wants to settle into the touches. He wants to. Even as he tries to focus on relaxing, his body clenches. He’s waiting for the hit. It doesn’t come.

Finally, he can’t take the waiting anymore, he looks over his shoulder.

Steve looks like he’s trying to swallow a laugh.

“What are you doing?” James asks.

“Watching you squirm.” Steve says mirth in his eyes.

Steve’s hand roams down over Bucky’s ass and then down to his inner thigh. It squeezes a little.

Bucky swears because it’s turning him on again.

“You know the plastic chafes right?”

“You don’t say.” Steve keeps making those little nice circles, so close but some far from where Bucky wants them.

Bucky turns his face into his arm and lets out a frustrated moan.

This does not stop the wonderful nice fingers from trailing up the inside of his thighs. If anything, it makes them more insistent.

Bucky squirms.

A strong hand has his hair now. It’s such a contrast to a moment ago that James gasps.

Steve smiles again. “Now I’ve got you.”

Bucky’s back is bent oddly in Steve’s grip. He gasps but manages to hold it even as the first strike hits. On the second it hits more squarely with his ass Bucky hisses. There’s a reason Steve picked this one. The third hit the paddle comes up higher and swings faster. Bucky sucks a breath again. There’s several in quick succession, Bucky doesn’t always gets a breath between them.

He loses count.

His eyes are shut. He focuses on the pain in his scalp. His mind jumps to new pain on his rear. He focuses on the warmth of Steve’s body, his mind jumps to the new pain. He tries to count breaths, his mind jumps.

How long this goes on, he doesn’t know. Each time he goes to focus, he can’t he gets knocked right out of it again. His mind drifts and then comes back to the sharp pain. It drifts and comes back. Drifts and comes back. He no longer tries to focus.

He knows it will come back with the pain.

The pain is real. The pain is grounding.

The pain eases. Warm hands are rubbing his back. Someone is talking to him. Someone is telling him he’s good.

Oh, it’s Steve.

He lets himself, fall into the touches, lets himself, be carried off by warmth of those hands on him.

“You think you’re focused enough now?” Steve asks.

Bucky nods. He stretches and unfolds himself. His body doesn’t feel like separate parts anymore. Everything thing feels connected and whole.

“That’s a good boy.”

Bucky blushes from the praise. He leans up and kisses Steve.

Steve turns him till he’s on Steve’s lap turned away from him.

“Still Green.”

“Very Green, sir.”

“Good boy.”

Bucky gets a kiss to his neck.

Steve’s got a key in his hand. Oh, thinks Bucky, that was in the nightstand, too. The cage comes away in three pieces. Bucky wants to touch so bad, but he wants Steve to touch more.

He makes that frustrated moan.

“Hold your horses.” Steve laughs into Bucky’s neck. “You want me to touch.”

“Please.”

“Please, what?” There’s a hard twisting pinch to Bucky’s side.

“Please, sir.”

“Better.”

Steve’s fingers are so light on Bucky’s skin.

He gasps and squirms. He wants more. More dammit.

Steve’s other hand comes around Bucky’s waist. Those fingers press firmly as they rub. The ones on his cock do not press any harder.

James bucks his hips. He leans back against Steve. He moans. He squirms. He cannot focus. Everything is too much. Steve is too warm, Steve is too close. Steve voice in his ear doesn’t register, it’s too much. But it’s all still not enough.

Steve’s fingers barely pepper dance across his shaft. Steve just won’t take him hand at all.

This is worse than standing in the hall. He’s getting what he wanted but he’s getting nowhere.

“Steve please.”

There’s that sharp pinch. It’s almost enough till it’s not.

“Sir, alright, sir please.”

“You can do it. You can, just focus.”

James’ eyes squeeze tighter still. His breathing is fast. It’s still not enough.

“Please, sir.” It’s a whine, he knows it’s a whine but he can’t feel shame for it, not now.

He struggles against Steve again with his hips bucking trying to get any kind of friction. He’s so hard.

Steve’s fingers close around his cock.

It’s just barely enough and then it is exactly enough.

Bucky comes so hard with the change in touch. His head gets thrown back and he’s silent. It’s just stuttering breaths from him now.

When his breath comes back, Buck laughs and Steve laughs. They lay back on the bed, sprawled out.

Steve is smiling at him, now.

“Shut up.”

“You looked so good, Buck.” Steve says all smirk and happiness.

“So.” Bucky rolls away and flattens himself into the comforter.

“I should have Barton do shower checks more often.”

Bucky groans and throws an arm over his head. “You knew?”

“I needed to make sure he’d see something, otherwise what was the point.”

“Next time, maybe I could have Natasha do it.”

Steve dodges a pillow but only just.

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't really get the repetitive motif I wanted from this when I was planning but I feel like the relationship feels more real this way. Alternate titles included, "He's a punk and you're fucked", "not that one", "the squirmy boy gets the stingy paddle". Feel free to vote in the comments if you think they fit better.


End file.
